


they only know what you let them see

by plinys



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/F, Femslash February, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-10-21 18:15:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17647493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plinys/pseuds/plinys
Summary: “You're insufferable.”They’ve had this conversation what feels like nearly a hundred times before. So often that Laurel doesn’t even stop what she’s doing, doesn’t hesitate for a moment, despite the way Dinah seems inclined to protest. If she didn’t want this she wouldn’t have come here.





	they only know what you let them see

**Author's Note:**

> this is just unbeta'd smut, happy femslash feb

“You're insufferable.”

They’ve had this conversation what feels like nearly a hundred times before. So often that Laurel doesn’t even stop what she’s doing, doesn’t hesitate for a moment, despite the way Dinah seems inclined to protest. If she didn’t want this she wouldn’t have come here. 

Wouldn’t have made an excuse for her to visit Laurel’s office right when everyone else was heading home for the night. 

Wouldn’t have lingered when they both have things they  _ should  _ be doing. 

Wouldn’t be kissing Laurel like  _ that _ .

“You like it,” Laurel says, breaking the kiss away for a moment.

It’s not a question.

A statement more.

An observation.

Because they all know, because anyone can tell, because there’s no hiding the way she is the only one that has ever really been able to make Dinah feel this way. The only one that has  _ this  _ power over her. Something that Laurel would let get to her head, if it wasn’t for the fact that Dinah made her feel the same way. 

It’s the worst sort of push and pull, because they always come back to this.

Spitting insults at each other, pretending it’s never meant to be anything more than one night, pressing just so it hurts, just a little, just enough to be a remind that this isn’t a happily ever after.

Not that Laurel ever expected one.

Not that one could even be possible.

But sometimes she remembers the woman back on her Earth, that had worn such a similar face, that had smiled with a look that spelled  _ trouble _ , but kissed her like a promise. 

“I hate you,” Dinah says, but she doesn’t mean it.

Not all breathless like that, lips shiny and kiss swollen, eyes watching Laurel, wanting and waiting to pull her back in, to pick up where they had left off. 

“I hate you too, baby,” Laurel replies, voice sickening sweet. The one she uses when she’s playing pretending as good and perfect  _ DA Laurel Lance _ . 

Dinah’s eye roll should probably be a lot less endearing. 

Laurel kisses her so that she doesn’t have to think about why that is. 

Doesn’t have to think about anything other than the woman she’s got pressed against her desk. 

Doesn’t have to think about anything other than this, than  _ tonight _ , than moments that are never enough. 

Doesn’t have to think about how in the morning they will pretend that nothing happened, that nothing ever happened. 

Doesn’t have to think about how maybe,  _ just maybe _ , she wouldn’t mind something a little bit more… Normal. 

As if they were ever made for such normal lives. 

As if they were ever made for anything more than this…

Dinah’s hands tighten against Laurel’s waist drawing her back to the present, a knee pressed just right between her legs, not any real pressure but enough to make it clear that getting this night to where it inevitably always ends up sooner rather than later is prefered. Normally, she would pull back, would tease Dinah a little more, just to watch as she slowly loses herself in the space between her want and her self control. 

It’s always a delicate balance.

But tonight Laurel wants this too badly to wait.

She’s had to deal with a job she’s not even close to qualified for, and Oliver Queen’s bullshit on top of all of that, and losing herself to Dinah sounds like a much better option.

Still, she pulls back just a little, “You sure you don’t want to take this back to my place? Patience is a virtue, after all.”

“Since when have you ever known a thing about virtues,” Dinah asks.

Which, fair. 

Still.

“Tell me what you want,” Laurel says, even as she sets herself to working at DInah’s pants. Removing her gun from it’s holster first, then moving to her belt, before fingertips play with the button of her pants.

Dinah hasn’t answer her, instead her head is tipped back, eyes shut.

Sometimes Laurel can’t help but wonder if Dinah is imagining someone else.

Not that she could really blame her.

Not that she herself hasn’t done the same. 

“Baby, you have to tell me, or I’ll stop,” Laurel says, sugary sweet voice again. 

“Fuck me,” Dinah eventually says. An order. A command. The same tone of voice she uses with her officers. “Fuck me.” 

Laurel looks down at her, at the prize so kindly offered up to her and considers it. 

Considers how best to ruin her. 

It’s not like she keeps sex toys in her desk drawers. Though considering how often they do this, maybe she ought to start… And wouldn’t that be fun? Taking Dinah apart properly, working her over with all sorts of toys, and then getting to sit in this office the next day pretending their dirty little secrets aren’t locked away. 

“I said, stop thinking and fuck me,” Dinah says. “Before I change my mind.” 

Laurel lets out a small noise almost a laugh at that - “So needy.”

She stops her teasing, finally giving in to what they both know Dinah came here for, what they both so clearly want. Tugging Dinah’s pants down just enough touch her, pussing her panties aside as she presses one finger up against her, slipping between her folds and inside of her so easily.

“You really are needy,” Laurel comments, casual, almost as an afterthought.

Dinah kissing her to shut her up is not a surprise. They’re always aggressive when they kiss, harsh, biting, fighting for power, for control even in these moments. Laurel loves it, loves the rush that it brings to her. 

She slides a second finger in to join the first, just to take some of that control back, to feel Dinah gasping against her lips. Still fighting for power, but also deeply caught up in her own growing need.

The lips against her own move in a way that spells  _ more _ .

And Laurel knows.

Of course she knows.

They’ve done this so many times, under the pretense of  _ just one more night  _ or  _ a mistake _ , that she has learned all the ways to take Dinah apart. How to press just right to get her gasping up into each kiss. How she likes it hard and rough, and how when Laurel gets between her thighs the slightest  _ echo  _ between them can bring Dinah off quicker than anything else.

She knows Dinah’s body, has known it for years, in other worlds, and other lifetimes. It makes no difference here. The similarities shining when clothing comes off, when finally Dinah surrenders to the little power that Laurel holds over her. 

Laurel works her fingers just right, pressing in with the right speed and tempo, that it does not take long because Dinah is shaking, stopping her kisses, in order to focus on just keeping herself propped up on the edge of Laurel’s desk. 

“Is that all you got,” Dinah asks. Breathless nearly.

A teasing comment.

As close to begging for more as Laurel will ever get.

Laurel slides a third finger in, right at the same time as she brings her thumb up to Dinah’s clit, rubbing harsh circles there, until finally inevitably, Dinah falls apart, with her name choked off on her lips.

This is the part Laurel likes the most, working Dinah through the aftershocks, watching the flush on the her skin, the way she struggles to catch her breath ones more. This is the most human that Dinah has ever looked, the most real, attainable, as something more than they mess that they constantly have going on.

For a second, in these moments, Dinah caught up in her bliss, Laurel can let the fantasy slip back in. Of another life, they could have had, if they were different people.

It’s gone too soon.

Dinah’s eyes fluttering back open. 

Meeting Laurel’s eyes, and seeing only the want and desire trapped there, before the cycle starts up once more and Dinah offers, almost casually, in a tone that could be indifferent, were Laurel not all too well aware of the hint of softness in Dinah’s eyes, “I guess I should return the favor, shouldn’t I?”

 


End file.
